My Seventh Year
by ShOrTi3
Summary: How much can change in 1 year? Alot. Who can help Hermione recover from a family dispute and her parents divorce? The wrong person at the right time. An idea taken from 2 lines from the trailor morphed into a whole new story. CH2 UP! SHOCKER!
1. Epilogue: Hurtful Words

**N/A: **Hello! I am your fellow ShOrTi3, here to bring you another story. My account got messed up and therefore, any previous stories of mine are now removed...tear. Anyway, this story is just a thought. I'm not sure about it yet. Your reviews decide its fate. So, well you know the drill... READ AND REVIEW! (please?)  
  
**Disclaimer: **Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter ™ or any of its characters. For if I did, I would be filthy stinkn' rich!!! But I'm still broke and that's proof enough... (another)tear.  
  
**Complete summary: **An idea taken from a few lines from the trailer, morphed into a whole new story. How much can change in one year? Alot. When Hermione is suffering from a family dispute and her parent's divorce, who will be there to help her recover? Not Harry. Not Ron. Just the wrong person at the right time. The wrong person who deliberately tried to make her past years a living hell, and succeeded (well, to a point). Problem is, she isn't too comfortable with him being around. Can her life get any worse? Sure it can! B/C I'm the writter!!  
  
Written all in first person. And... I'll let you guess the pairing, though if you did a search for these precise couples, then you already know (you sly dogs you!) So read and enjoy (and review!) –Hold on, I can't start the story until I see a commercial with the scene in it...! Silly me!! Oh, and forgive me if I don't get the dialogue right! You know as well as me that the movie doesn't come out until June 4th (the last day for my school year! And I'm going to see it with a lot of friends!!!) and the dialogue is unknown to most people right now, but if for some reason you do know it (and I got it wrong, or you just want more speaking in this first chapter), send it to me at BuBBliCiouS094adelphia.net or I.M. me at ShOrTy4947! Thanx in advance! And happy reading!-   
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**_Epilogue: Hurtful Words _**

"--FILTHY LITTLE MUDBLOOD!--"  
  
"--FOUL ODERED, EVIL LITTLE COCKROACH!--"  
  
I was stomping down the hill towards Malfoy who stood with his ignorant cronies. He was flushed with anger, but not like I was. I finally reached a braking point. He could only torment me so much, and this time, he crossed the line. My face was flushed; my silky long, less bushy hair was now wind- blown and out of place. My eyes glowed with a brilliant, raging fire that could only be extinguished when I grasped revenge upon the arrogant, self- centered ferret. He held a look of disgust on his prim face, while I held a look of pure hatred and loathing on mine. He looked ready to fight. I looked ready to kill.  
  
Before I could even think or comprehend what I was doing, my wand was out and only inches away from his throat. I had reached my destination. He was pinned to the tree with no escape. Time seemed to slow, but my words flew from my mouth like prey escaping its hunter.  
  
Suddenly it became silent. It seemed as if I had gone deaf. The silence flooded the air and my ears, blinding the sense. But the other four senses were still at their peak, and I could still feel the hatred that burned within me.  
  
Everything stilled. Became motionless. And there, before my eyes, stood Malfoy. His face, which no longer held the look of disgust, but was now, replaced by fright. His eyes showed regret for his angry words, as they darted around looking for an escape, only to pause and stare down the tip of my wand when he knew he was trapped. I was surprised- no- shocked! Malfoy—mean, conceited, egotistical, proud, self-admiring Malfoy—stood only inches from the tip of my wand with a shocked and frightened expression. He reminded me of an abused puppy, quivering before his owner.  
  
But I was happy. I was satisfied. He was at least smart enough to understand that Hermione Granger was holding a wand to his throat. That at any given moment, she (I) could release a hex, spell or jinx that he would have probably never heard of.  
  
He finally found his place. His place--- which was at the end of my wand, right where I could keep him in check.  
  
Though I had finally felt the triumph of winning a battle that had long been fought, I still couldn't bring my lips into a smirk; they were contempt in pressed anger. But it didn't matter. I was still happy. Finally, noticing my surroundings and not to mention my actions, I sheepishly yet gallantly regained my dignity.  
  
I glared at him for a few long seconds before withdrawing my wand. He only stared back, but the emotion of fright was quickly decreasing from his pale face.  
  
It didn't bother me though. He would never forget today. And neither will I. He now knows the capability of my anger. Should he push further with his taunting, then he will only be forced to dig his own grave. Once again, me with a wand and him with no escape, and not to mention a thin temper, complements of him.  
  
I had long forgotten Ron and Harry who stood behind me. When I turned to acknowledge them, their mouths had hung open in utter shock. They gapped at my actions, and if I could stand with them and watch myself only seconds (though it had felt like hours) before, I would probably join them as their triplet.  
  
I regained my posture and poise, letting the anger that had flooded my emotions and face fade, and followed them back up the hill, thinking that this small yet bliss quarrel was over. But I clearly thought too soon.  
  
As soon as my back was turned, Malfoy had said the one thing to top my anger.  
  
"Foolish mudblood can't even carry out her actions! Wonder if it's inherited from her mum or dad... doesn't matter there both ungrateful, dirty little muggles!"  
  
I'm sure he wanted me to hear it (he said it quite loudly), and I did. But I'm also sure he didn't think I was going to do what I did next. It was unexpected even for me.  
  
Before I knew it, I was spinning around on my heel, my hand clenched into an angry fist. That fire had not only rose back up in my eyes, but was now ten times as bright as it was before burned with an impossible to describe loathing.  
  
Forgetting about the wand that was positioned in the pocket of my jeans, my hand made up for its absence, and faster then anyone could keep up with, it collided with the side of Malfoy's precious face.  
  
He had fallen to the ground. He was unable to detect my fist. I'm sure his first thought (or concern I should say) would be my wand. But like he had said, my parents were muggles, my friends were muggles. So it's only proper for me to be taught by muggles when it comes to 'hand in hand' combat.  
  
When I finally came to my senses, I discovered Malfoy's limp, unconscious body lying at my feet. I looked to Crabbe and Goyle, who both had dumbfounded looks plastered to their chubby faces.  
  
I glared at them, as if daring them to say another word about the previous subject. I guess they're not as dumb as they appear to be. Actually I give them a lot of credit, they kept their mouths shut. And with the way my anger had been thinning by the second, that smart action was their savior.  
  
I stalked past Harry and Ron, and walked back to the castle in silence, leaving an unconscious Malfoy and his confused bodyguards behind. I knew Malfoy wouldn't say anything about this, it only meant humiliation for him and no matter how many points you take from Gryffindor, it still wouldn't be enough to rename him as the cocky, well respected, Slytherin Prince he had already claimed the title of. I mean, who would want to follow a falsely judged pureblood who can't even defend himself against a "mudblood"? My thoughts exactly. So I was home safe.  
  
Now I was positive he would keep away from me, never to interfere in my life again. He knew what power I possessed with or without wand, so it should hold up a boundary somewhere... Now I'm rid of that git. Finally able to conduct a less hectic life without him. Able to be free, and do as I like without having to worry about him interrupting it.  
  
But how wrong I was... oh, how very wrong I was.


	2. Gone For Good

**N/A: **Only 2 reviews? Hmmm... I don't know about this story. Maybe the idea was bad. I had a plot picked out for it (well, I small, loosely constructed plot) and was hoping I could go on with it. Maybe making a second chapter is a little risky... but from the people who did review, they said they didn't want this to be a one-shot. So I'll see if the second chapter does any better. Actually, I've decided to make this take place in the seventh year. So the first chapter will be the epilogue. This will be the first TRUE chapter. Ok, here we go...! (Tell me what you think!)  
  
**Disclaimer: **I'm still broke! So don't bother suing!  
  
**Summary: **In the epilogue, Hermione and Draco had a bit of an argument...It's four years later so the bickering should still stand to reason, right? Umm, sure, for now... (I know something you don't know!) Nothing much has changed between third year and the end of their sixth year... except Hermione and Draco's fights are becoming a whole lot more brutal. So we shouldn't be expecting anything surprising, right? I mean, how much can happen in one year? (once again I know something you don't know!) I bet I'm getting on your nerves with the stupid questions that you really have no way of answering! HAHA! **WARNING: THIS CHAPTER MAY BE UNSUITABLE FOR CHILDREN UNDER13! SHOCKER!  
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_**Chapter One: Gone for Good  
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It was a peaceful morning. It was early and the sun was streaming through my window, illuminating my tired room. My soft violet walls glowed with the morning rays. My eyes fluttered open as my ears caught the early tune of the chirping birds. At first, that's what I thought had woken me up.  
  
"Stupid birds." I muttered.  
  
I sat up and looked around at the digital clock that was perched on my desk. It read 8:17am. It was early. I usually wake up around ten or eleven. So obviously I rolled back over to regain my slumber.  
  
Then I heard it. There was a faint yelling that was taking place downstairs, probably in the kitchen. My eyes shot open and I sat up. My hair was untidy and all over, but that was the last thought on my mind. There was a shrill scream. My Mother. Then there was a pause as I heard her sobs take over the still air.  
  
I got up from my bed and cautiously walked over to my bedroom door to open it. I was confused; bewildered at the excitement that was taking place below. I was scared too. I mean, how many seventeen year olds wake up hearing their mothers screaming and crying at eight o'clock in the morning, and aren't scared?  
  
I opened my door slowly, letting a small creak escape the hinges. Luckily, no one heard me. They were too busy yelling.  
  
"Get out! GET OUT!!"  
  
It was mum's voice. She sounded angry. She also sounded hurt. I mean, emotionally. I was still confused.  
  
"LEAVE! I DON'T WANT YOU TO COME NEAR ME OR MY DAUGHTER ANY MORE!"  
  
She was still screaming, but then I heard dad's voice interrupt.  
  
"FINE! YOU AND THAT _**FREAK**_ CAN LIVE HERE BY YOURSELF! GOOD LUCK PAYING THE BILLS AND EARNING MONEY FOR FOOD! GOD KNOWS YOU NEVER APRECIATED MY HELP!"  
  
Then the door slammed. My head was spinning. Did I just hear that? Did Dad just leave? Did mum just kick him out? I felt myself loose balance. Tears that were now swelling up and threatening to fall obscured my eyesight. Was this happening? My hand was outstretched, feeling around for something to keep me from falling. Too late.  
  
My knees gave way and I tumbled headfirst down the stairs. Then all went black.

'...YOU AND THAT **_FREAK_** CAN LIVE HERE BY YOURSELF! ...GOD KNOWS YOU NEVER APPRECIATED MY HELP!'

My eyes fluttered open once again, but this time, I was lying on the couch. I took in all my surroundings. I was in the parlor. The parlor... the last time I was in here was yesterday, when daddy brought me my letter from Hogwarts that told me I was the latest Head Girl. He seemed happy for me. No, actually he seemed overjoyed that I had accomplished a set goal. But how long ago was it that he called me a freak?  
  
I felt tears swell up again, and looked around to preoccupy myself, to take my mind off my father. Where's mum? She wasn't in the parlor. I made a move to get up, but I suddenly felt a sting of pain fly through my ribs and my wrist all at once. I looked down to see what the reason for it all was. Then I saw it. My wrist was swollen and bruised. With my good hand, I slowly lifted up my oversized T-shirt to examine my stomach. When I saw my ribs, I immediately knew they were broke. The left side looked semi- crushed, while the right side had dark bruises covering them.  
  
Wonderful. The trip to Hogwarts is in three days, I have broken ribs and a broken wrist, my father left for good and I have no clue where my mother has gone off to.  
  
Once again, with my good hand, I tied my over sized T-shirt up in a knot, draping the excess material up high enough to rest my wrist in. I secured my wrist inside it, then cradled my ribs with my good hand, all at once pushing my self up off the couch.  
  
I stood up, but as soon as I regained my posture, I immediately regretted it. My head began to spin again, and my eyes were swaying in and out of focus. I did my best to walk down the hall with out collapsing, and stopped when I came to a mirror.  
  
I leaned up against the wall and gazed into the mirror. I probably would have fainted right then and there if it weren't for what I heard a few seconds later.  
  
My reflection showed a beat up child. My lip was busted open, I had a huge bloody bruise on my forehead, and my ribs looked worse then I thought. I was wearing sweat pants, so obviously I wasn't able to see the damage done to my legs. But it didn't matter; I didn't want to see any way. But the bruise on my forehead explained why I was so dizzy. I would bet you anything that I had a concussion.  
  
Just then, a small sob caught my ears. Mum. I did my best to run to her, trying to ignore the stabbing pain coming from my ribs. She was in the Sewing Room. Oh god. The sewing room! Where all her precious sewing scissors and knives are kept!  
  
What I saw next, well, let's put it this way, I'm surprised I didn't die right on the spot, I'm surprised I didn't go insane. What I saw next, would make any child just want to commit suicide. Luckily, I was smart enough (and conscious enough) to take action and call the medics, for both of us.  
  
Mum was slumped over in the corner, her wrists bleeding uncontrollably. A small razor knife was sitting inches away from her, and she was crying, muttering words that made no sense.  
  
"Get out. Leave. Go. Get away..."  
  
I didn't even say anything to her. What could I say? My first thought was to get her help. Forgetting about my pain, I ran out of the room, tears streaming down my face, and headed for the nearest phone. I quickly called for an ambulance, and hurriedly answered all of their stupid questions. I ended up hanging up on them, they were wasting time.  
  
I ran back over to mother. She was still muttering words, but when I approached her, she quieted. A walked over to her, and grabbed the nearest cloth. What do you do in a situation like this? I was having the hardest time concentrating. Oh god! My head hurt, I could feel warm blood dripping down the side of my face.  
  
I took the cloth and pressed it onto her wrists, the purpose to slow the bleeding. I closed my eyes, silently praying to god. Praying that none of this was true. That it was all just one horrible nightmare.  
  
I felt mum's head rest on my shoulder. I opened my eyes to look down at her. Her eyes were closed, but she was muttering something.  
  
"He's gone... gone for good... he's gone for good and it's all my fault."  
  
In the distance, I could hear the ambulance racing up the street. Mum must have passed out, that was all she said.


End file.
